


The Seed Carrier

by M J Holyoke (wholeyolk)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Biology, Dehumanization, F/F, Femslash After Dark 2019, Multiple Penetration, Oviposition, Plants, Restraints, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-01 22:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20265772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholeyolk/pseuds/M%20J%20Holyoke
Summary: When she was a young Tree, she never wanted for seed carriers. They were abundant, and they were enthusiastic. Now, though, the seed carriers of her youth have all but vanished, and a new category of creature has risen to take their place.





	The Seed Carrier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [initialism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/initialism/gifts).

Do trees have a sex?

They do, actually, although the Tree, inasmuch as she has any self-awareness or thought processes whatsoever, doesn’t regard herself as female _per se_. Nevertheless, by dint of the pollen she receives each season from male trees into her gynoecia which fertilizes her eggs and ultimately gives rise to her seeds, she is, in fact, a female—

—a female Tree, that is, whose branches are, at this very moment, bowed and creaking with the weight of close to a hundred ripe seed pods.

Seeds which need to be dispersed, and soon, before they drop of their own accord directly downward to the ground at the base of the Tree’s trunk, where her dense, luxurious foliage will shade them out before they can properly germinate.

Her seeds are too heavy to be carried on the wind, and she has no means by which to spread her seeds far and wide by herself. No, she needs some other living thing to approach and do that for her. Until that happens, she can but wait, growing increasingly desperate . . . and hope.

When she was a young Tree, she never wanted for seed carriers. They were abundant, and they were enthusiastic. Now, though, the seed carriers of her youth have all but vanished, and a new category of creature has arisen to take their place.

They’re odd, no doubt about it, and they’re far from ideal. Her old seed carriers had a dozen orifices into which she could pack her seeds; these new seed carriers, depending on anatomical type, have, at best, three. She has a lot of trouble telling the two anatomical types apart—there’s no reliable way to know until she’s taken hold of them for packing. But over the last twenty or so most recent seasons she’s learned that the best of these new seed carriers tend not to be the largest of their species.

She learned early on, of course, that ones smaller than a certain size couldn’t take her seeds at all. Their orifices are wont to rupture traumatically when packed, and some of her earliest experiments with these new seed carriers actually died outright, their poor little corpses poisoning the soil around her roots until other members of their species came to spirit the remains away. The largest individuals, meanwhile, while they _seem _like they ought to be able to handle the biggest seed loads, often only have two available orifices suitable for packing, and their slight evident advantage in average total body size does not compensate for that lack of a third orifice.

So all other things being equal, the Tree usually tries for the mid-sized ones.

Ah, lo and behold, here comes one now—! Not too big, not too small; it looks perfect—!

She has to be quick, and she has to be _smart_. She would swear that these new seed carriers become more difficult to catch with each new season. It’s like they’re learning or something. Nah, that doesn’t seem possible. But if she isn’t quick, they often get away; she gets the oddest feeling on occasion that most of them don’t particularly enjoy carrying her seeds.

A shame. They really should. Being a seed carrier is a privilege.

Her leaves are long, prehensile, and cord-like. They are also strong, capable of holding the bodies of a seed carrier aloft and immobile while it is being packed. She makes a quick grab low down, near where the roots would begin if it were a tree—success!—first time lucky!—and she lifts the body of her soon-to-be seed carrier off of the ground and into the air by one of its branches, then wrapping a few additional leaves around its other three branches in order to hold it securely against the thick bark of her trunk.

She wraps yet another leaf around her soon-to-be seed carrier’s trunk. It tries to struggle, as per usual, and it twists and writhes with a dexterity and flexibility that the Tree almost envies, but the Tree’s leaves keep it from moving too, too much. It’s important to strike the right balance: too tight, and she might harm the soon-to-be seed carrier, too loose, and the soon-to-be seed carrier might escape before it has been fully packed.

She’d positioned the soon-to-be seed carrier so that its two orifices, assuming it has them, are pointing toward the sky. These orifices are located at the base of its two thickest branches, and they’re usually concealed by some mysterious manner of thin bark, husk, or membrane.

Her seed pods—modified leaves, of a sort, except that they hold her seeds—are excellent for breaking through the husk, and when she does so, she is most edified to discover that this particular captive specimen does indeed have two orifices ready and waiting for packing.

The Tree does not delay further. She moves two of her seed pods into position and _pushes_. There’s always a good amount of resistance, so she needs to push hard enough to ensure a seamless packing tube, and the procedure takes awhile . . . but what is time reckoned to a tree?

When her seeds start to move out of their pods and into the seed carrier, goodness is the wait worth it! Each pod holds between four to six seeds, and each and every seed exiting the tube is like a great weight released from the branches _and _the conscience of the Tree. Indeed, the feeling is as close to ecstasy as a Tree is capable of experiencing, and for a few moments, at least, the whirling world and its endless march of seasons seems to stand still.

She is not satisfied, however, with packing only two orifices when she knows one more is yet available. Without bothering to break the packing tubes already installed, she adds a third, this one located at the top of her seed carrier. Unlike its other orifices, this orifice has a ring of hard, woody knots guarding its entrance, but these knots are relatively blunt and do not damage the seed tube as it is forcibly inserted.

The seed carrier does . . . something strange when that third and final orifice is packed. It seems to shake, and it makes a vibration that the Tree can feel through her leaves and branches and trunk and roots. The tree suspects that this is her seed carriers way of telling her that’s its full and read to deliver her seeds to their new destination, but she really can’t be sure.

In any event, she decides to interpret the meaning of the vibration in this way, and slowly, _gently_, she removes her leaves from its body one by one by one by one and deposits her seed carrier back onto the ground.

She has done her job well. Eventually, the creature, seeds securely packed inside its three orifices, rises and stumbles away, leaving the Tree alone to await her next soon-to-be seed carrier.


End file.
